


Time is a Ribbon

by Imogen74



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: But ill used, F/M, Jane is hesitant, Jane is stubborn, King of the Underworld - Freeform, Loki is angry, Loki is kinda sad, Loki wants Jane, Medieval AU, Ribbons are pretty cool, This is really AU, Weird Coincidences, regency au, victorian au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 05:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4127446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imogen74/pseuds/Imogen74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet several times over the course of a few hundred years, but it is when Loki is the Lord of the Underworld that things really get interesting. Lokane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time is a Ribbon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liana_Slane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liana_Slane/gifts).



**AU, Loki as lord of the underworld and what happens when Jane captures his interest.**

* * *

Most people, when they hear the term “underworld” think of fire and brimstone. They think of darkness penetrating every crevice, every breath a labor, every countenance bearing a scowl of pain and loathing. Most people, when they hear the term “lord,” they conjure a vision of someone regal, of someone with power, at least incidentally so. They think of riches, of law, of a crown, or a throne.

Now, Loki Laufeyson was a fickle lord. Always wanting what he couldn't have.

And Loki wanted a throne, which he had. But he desired the throne of Asgard. Hel was not the dark place you envisioned when I mentioned “underworld.” 

It was rather temperamental, true…the climate ranged wildly from frigid to sweltering. But the place itself teemed with life. 

And many Aesir even visited the place willingly. And though they all liked it well enough, they all understood that the Underworld was one thing to them, for they were still alive. 

Loki saw what it really was. 

 And they did not. 

This suited Loki ill. 

He was wretched and scornful.

He loathed the fact that Aesir came and went on their whim, and he was left to rule the hateful place. Payback, you see, for being on Odin’s bad side and refusing the family name. It came upon a time when Odin desired his adopted son to visit the highest Realm. There was a meeting of minds, and Loki’s mind was as good as any for the job.

(How Odin failed to see that this wasn't just about the most insulting thing one could say to another was utterly lost on Loki…) 

No matter. He went. He got out of his hellish prison so infrequently that he couldn't bear to deny himself the opportunity. 

It was in the highest Realm that Loki discovered the true meaning behind this gathering. 

Thor was being shaped for the Kingship. In the vast expanse of the Realm Eternal, Loki seethed and swore. He would need to contend with the great moron being King of Asgard.

He, Loki, would be answering to him, at least on some level. 

He returned to Hel in quite a state. There had been whisperings of a young mortal girl who had captured the eye of the Thunderer, and the meaning was not lost on Loki, for he was cunning. 

He would keep an eye on this mortal. 

* * *

_And in the far corner of the royal palace Frigga was weaving time. She hit a stitch…a stitch, black…she pricked her finger, and blood spilled… And then she saw it…the many lives of Jane Foster…_

* * *

It had been too long to count, really, the last time Jane had seen her father. He had left for the wars in the Holy Land. He had left, and Jane had stayed.

She was scrubbing the soft wood of the kitchen table. 

Mother had gone to market, Eli was plowing the fields. 

It was cold in England this time of the year; the sky hung with thin moisture, the fires were never enough…the harvest breathing its last, Eli would likely not be getting much from the stubborn soil.

Jane went to the doorway to look for her mother or her brother, but saw nothing…

…it was then that the sky peeled open, and a great light fell to the ground in front of her. Jane jumped backwards and shielded her eyes with her arms, for the dank day had hardly yielded any light. 

She was wary when she uncovered her eyes.

And she had reason to be. 

A tall man, with blonde hair whipping about him, was but a few yards from where Jane stood in the doorway. He was remarkable for several reasons, the largest one being the fact that he had appeared to have come from the split in the sky above. 

“Odd weather…” Jane announced uncertainly, looking at the man with a hint of doubt. 

“And where is this place, young lass?” 

“It is…” what did he mean? “It’s erm…just there’s Ipswich.” 

The man nodded. “I’m looking for the place you Midgardians call ‘Norway.’ There is an uprising there, and I am needed posthaste.” 

Jane looked at him dumbfounded. 

The man grunted his answer, and taking a large weapon in his hand, held it to the sky. Jane recoiled and covered her face once more. 

“Mjölnir only harms when I command it, small mortal. Do not fear,” and he smiled and left, flying into the sky. 

Jane watched and thought that she should probably have a lie down. 

It was later that evening, after her mother and brother had long since gone to bed, that she felt a presence. 

She went to the door…old, the wood was withered…and pressed an ear to it. Nothing. She couldn't see the invisible sorcerer watching her

…confused as to why Thor had stopped here, in this ramshackle dwelling. 

_…the stitch slipped and the Queen picked it up…she took it and threaded through once more…._

* * *

“And that was how Mrs. Allen told Mr. Allen about the affair!” Miss Lewis squealed in Jane’s ear.

Jane didn't care. 

She didn't care about who was sleeping with whom. 

She didn't care if her corset was too loose, or that her hair wasn't being worn in fashion. She didn't care about any of it, and she loathed being at gatherings wherein these topics were the primary focus of the discourse. She nodded politely and excused herself to the outside gardens. 

War was brewing in France, yet no one spoke of that. 

Women were demanding that their voices be heard…but all Jane heard was an insistence that she be quiet.

There were mutterings of things no one spoke of…marrying for love, or indeed, not marrying at all. Now this, Jane could get behind. She walked through the garden…

“It is unwise to linger in places unattended,” came a smooth voice. Jane turned and spied a dark figure lingering in the shadow of the low hanging willow. 

“Who’s there?” she said. 

“No one of consequence,” he replied. 

“Why are you hanging about in dark gardens?” she went closer.

The man made some movement, but remained mostly obscured by the darkness. 

“I’m hardly hanging about. It is you, alsking, who is behaving rashly. Do not your parents worry about a young maiden such as yourself wandering a garden at night? Who knows what dangers the darkness holds…?” he ended in a hiss.

“Do you mean to frighten me?” She saw his smirk. 

“Nay. I mean to discover what it is about you, you in particular, that makes you think that you are above convention.” 

“Me? There is nothing remarkable about me. And I do not think myself above convention. I think of myself as…beside it.” 

“Indeed,” he replied.

“Show yourself,” Jane demanded.

And he emerged mostly now…and Jane saw him to boast a tall figure, dark, raven hair, sharp features…and a penetrating stare which held her captive.

“Who are you?” she breathed. “You don’t look like one of the party guests.” 

“Who I am does not matter,” and he turned from her. “I am here on a diplomatic mission, and I took a detour.”

“A detour,” she repeated. 

“That’s right,” and she heard his smile. 

Jane swallowed. 

“You are a diplomat?” she found it difficult to believe…he wasn't the most pleasant fellow. 

“I am.”

Jane nodded, though she doubted that he saw her. 

“You are an innocent creature, are you not?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” and now she was a touch frightened. Why was he mentioning her innocence? 

“I mean,” she saw him move toward her, though still relatively obscured. “That you are not well versed in courtship and such.” 

“I have no interest in courtship and such,” and her chin lifted in defiance. 

“That,” he continued, “is a shame.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you are lovely.”

Jane cleared her throat. “I’m not…” she turned. “And I should be getting back…” But she felt his touch on her hand.

“Tell me to stop.”

She had lost her voice. She saw only him…his gaze…the darkness… 

“No? Shall I continue, then?” and he led her into the gloom of the immediate wood around. “You tremble like these leaves…” and toward the massive trunk of the tree. “Fear not alsking…no harm shall come to you…you are in good hands…” his own hands then wrapped around her waist, and pressed her to the tree. “How contrary you are. Your eyes are blown wide in anticipation…yet you squirm at my touch. Tell me, have you had a kiss before?” 

Her mouth had gone dry. 

She could only nod. “Once,” she muttered.

“Once,” he repeated. “Well, was it enjoyable?” he was very close to her face.

She nodded once more. 

The man appeared to be momentarily shocked. “Hm. Did the suitor do this…?” he dragged his mouth along her collar bone…and her head went back…his tongue tasting the salt of her skin. Jane swallowed. His hands left her waist and went to her shoulders. “Or this…?” and his lips traced her jawline…and now his mouth was inches from hers. “Tell me, mortal, did your suitor do those things?” 

“No,” she whispered. 

“No,” he replied.

And he claimed her mouth…desperate and deep…he pressed into her…Jane moaned into his mouth, and he sunk the kiss deeper still, ferocious and fierce, his tongue joined with hers…consuming her very soul. His hands traced over her breasts…then dropped and took her ass and he squeezed…his knee bent and plowed in between her legs, grinding against her. 

Jane pulled away…she felt overwrought…she found her voice. “I need to go.” 

“Yes you do,” his breath was quick, and Jane thought that she heard a veiled meaning in his words. He stepped away, smoothed his overcoat, and turned from her. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Far from here, alsking,” he responded softly. But he turned once more. “And the next time a suitor attempts to kiss you, demand nothing less than what I offered,” he winked at her and left the garden. 

Jane quaked in her shoes. She needed to get back. 

What an odd occurrence! She smiled and began to walk toward the house once more… 

…and she stopped. 

He had called her “mortal”…

_  
_

* * *

_…the stitch fell, black as night…and this time, it seemed to start afresh…Frigga’s finger trembled and she swore, as time unfurled another scene before her…_

The carriages on Leicster Square rattled along as Jane, Foster, if you please, scurried along the sidewalk. It was a dirty day in London, as so many were…but Jane loved it, and offered no complaint. 

She was heading for her favorite bookshop; the new volume was out, and she needed to purchase it before Mama found out… 

Mama didn't approve of Jane’s bookworm ways. She thought that Jane was being quite silly. 

Jane didn't care. 

Into the shop, with a tinkle of the bell, she went…all smiles and saccharine goodness. 

“Miss Mary!” she yelled.

“Hello, dear heart. Come for your book, then?” 

“Oh, yes. Is it here?” 

“Indeed. But I don’t understand where you get this fascination of yours. Beyond my understanding, love,” and she handed Jane a volume wrapped in brown paper.

Jane positively beamed with excitement, and handing her a crown, went to the back of the shop to examine it. 

She tore it open with abandon, and marveled at the object. 

“It is but a book,” said a man.

Jane looked up. He was a curious looking man, quite tall, dark…”How can you say ‘just a book?’ Books are always exciting.” 

“They are words recorded on paper. That is all,” he replied, and the smartly dressed man sat at her table. 

“But words! They are everything.” 

“There are too many of them.” 

“There aren’t enough.” 

“It is better to be concise and deliberate in one’s language. Verbosity is an unattractive trait.”

“So is snobbery and vanity,” her chin lifted. 

“Touche, Miss…?”

“Jane.”

“Jane…?” 

She glared at him. “Just Jane.” 

“Well then, Miss Jane…tell me. What is the volume which has you enraptured?”

And the pair spoke for a full two hours.

And Loki, Prince of Asgard, was duly impressed with the mortal. 

_But Frigga knew that less than a decade following this interlude was Loki’s downfall…and after spending some time in Asgard’s dungeons, he would be banished to the Underworld…to claim his throne…_

* * *

The wind was whipping around the arid air of the desert.

There were beeps insisting their presence and Jane was trying to make sense of the maths on her device. Darcy Lewis was getting into the truck, and Jane was punching the numbers. The thing appeared to be going haywire. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Dude. Just drive, alright?” 

BAM.

“Oh my god,” and Jane got out of the car. Where had he come from? Who wanders around the desert at night? “Please don’t be dead…” 

Jane brought the massive man to the hospital.

She went through all of the many ups and downs of developing a crush, of watching said crush experience terror…nearly getting killed by a destroyer sent by his brother.

And in the end, Thor didn't come back for her…

* * *

_The stitches were becoming more steady now. They were being handled with precision…the seamstress’s hands no longer trembling…she now saw what she had been waiting for…_

For many long years Jane Foster was a scientist. She was a scientist who loved the stars. She was a scientist in a time when the secrets of the cosmos weren't so secret any longer, and the Tree was brimming with buzzes and hums, full of plenty, and sacred blooms. 

Jane wanted nothing more than to travel the Tree, to talk with others, to learn from the many races of Yggdrasil. 

And she did. 

Jane Foster studied the Dark Elves of Svartalfheim. The Light Elves of Alfheim. The Fire Giants of Muspelheim. She studied them, and she loved it. Jane wanted to travel to the Nine, to see them, and experience the wonder that they held. She knew that it would take a great deal of convincing to accomplish this, and she wasn't even certain whom she would need to convince. NASA? The U.S. government? The U.N.? Who was in charge of such exploits, anyway? 

By and by, Asgard came to Midgard on a peace mission. 

There was growing trepidation in the Tree, and Odin thought it apt to be preemptive and discover loyalties before war broke out. 

And Jane, being an astrophysicist and an expert on the races of Yggdrasil, volunteered to be part of the talks.

And there was the Prince, mighty and all brawn, sitting at the very head of the table. He spotted the elfish woman and smiled at her.

_…and there it began, though it had begun many ages before…though for our purposes, this was where Jane had first captured the eye of the Prince._

And she returned his smile, surreptitious and serene, and sat, longing for the go ahead to allow her leave… 

“Jane Foster, I understand?” 

He was standing behind her as she filled her cup of coffee. “Yes,” the liquid scalded her throat as she hurriedly swallowed it. She coughed. “Yes. Dr. Jane Foster. You are…um…Asgard’s Prince?”

“Thor,” he bowed. 

“Oh,” she smiled. He was very regal, albeit formal. 

“Dr. Jane, allow me to escort you outside during our break in these monotonous talks. They are tiresome, wouldn't you agree?” 

“Well, no, actually. They’re fascinating.”

“Indeed?” and he began to walk to the door, Jane following. “What sort of fascination does it hold for you?” 

“I’ve been studying this stuff for years. I know all about the Aesir and all of the Realms and their inhabitants,” they were outside now. 

“It is a lovely evening,” she looked to the sky.

“It is.” 

“I wish I could go there.” 

Thor looked at her, and then the sky. “Do you mean…Yggdrasil?” 

“Mm hm…” she songfully sighed.

“You can,” and when she looked at him, he was smiling.

“How?” she breathed. There was a pressure descending from the air, wrapping itself around the two. 

“There are ways the All-Father can see to…” and he took her hand to lead her to Odin. 

And Thor was enraptured. 

He kept the mortal close to him during the coming weeks, Jane opting to stay instead of going home to Midgard. 

…and there were whispers of an unseemly relationship between the pair…that the mortal scientist had captured the Prince’s eye. 

And Thor was not to be gainsaid. 

_…and the fold of time lost its bend, and stretched forward once more in front of the Queen…and as if through a stupor, she opened her eyes…_

“Loki,” she whispered.

* * *

Obsidian and hard, penetrating darkness, stark sound in dank corridors…that was the place wherein Loki Laufeyson dwelled whilst concocting the demise of Thor, God of Thunder. How he loathed the wretch!

Many years had come and went, and Loki was stuck at the base of the Tree, and he was tired of it. He had fulfilled his duty to the Norns, and now he desired recompense. 

And this mortal would be his ticket out.

He summoned some of the messengers…he would send them to spy, discover what they could of the mortal…and then… 

Loki smirked. 

Soon.

* * *

_Somewhere, she dreams through the noise._

_And what she discovers is that the universe holds much for her; much that she never really considered, and it frightens her. Why does she feel drawn to this place? To another Realm?_

_Jane concludes, it must be Thor. So she spends more time with him. She decides that he is a suitable enough companion. He laughs enough (bit too much for her taste), is buoyant (though she desires some gravity), and is strong and sinewy (Jane never considered such a thing to be part of her particular taste, but she certainly won’t deny that it’s nice)._

_Thor is eager._

_Jane, less so._

_And the Queen notices this with a worried eye. There is something, surely, amiss here._

_And Loki sends his diplomats, they beg for an interview._

_Of course the Queen complies, for she could never really deny her youngest son anything…_

_…even after Odin banished him to the Underworld._

_What she doesn’t know is that Jane eavesdrops on the meeting, and is enthralled with what she hears._

_“Thor,” she comes to him shorty after. “There is an Underworld?”_

_“Hm? Yes. Of course. There is an Overworld, is there not?”_

_“There is?”_

_“Aye. You are in it, Jane Foster.”_

_“Asgard?”_

_“Mm.”_

_Jane thinks about this. “I want to see it.”_

_“See what?” and now he looks at her._

_“The Underworld.”_

_“Absolutely not,” he responds sternly. "There is no call for you to go there. What’s more, is that you are ill suited for such an environment.”_

_“Thor, I want to go…”_

_“It is simply not a question, Jane. I cannot allow it,” the great man concludes speech with a glare and stands._

_But Jane is undeterred._

_She is resolute._

_She can be quite convincing when she needs to be._

_And she needs to be._

_So she is._

* * *

It happened not long after her initial claim to seek the Underworld, when the days elongated like thin ribbons from a girl’s hair, that Jane finally won her passport there.

An adventure seeker, she was. She stood with the Seer and the guardsmen saying her goodbyes to Thor…

“I’ll only be gone a short while…three weeks, I think your parents have allowed,” she kissed his mouth softly. 

“Jane Foster. You have ruined me and I cannot bear the thought of you being so far away.” 

She smiled, she nodded. 

She left. 

* * *

Traveling by the BiFrost with complete strangers was an odd thing. Jane was pressed against them as the colors of light swirled and sang a melancholic hum in her ears.

She felt the jolt as she landed, and lost her balance momentarily. 

…and she looked around her. The Underworld, or as it was, Hel, to Jane, looked like something out of a Tim Burton film. There were strange creatures flying overhead. There were odd plants growing on the earth. Bizarre sounds filling her ears… It wasn't the dark place she had envisioned. 

Jane turned to her guides, smiling. “So…where are we going, specifically?” 

“Prince Thor wants you to meet his brother. We go to the palace.” 

“Wow,” she smiled. And she followed them through odd thickets and musical foliage. 

It was a wonderland, to be sure…bent tree limbs, so brown, they were almost black. Green leaves, pressed on the atmosphere in between the places where songs sang sadly… 

Jane was transfixed. 

And she felt it acutely, the awe of what she saw. Towering in close distance, stood a structure. Its battlements tall and stone, its turrets winding upwards toward the dome of sky. Jane swallowed and continued to follow her mute guides. 

The massive wooden door presented itself, and one of the guides knocked. It opened of its own accord. The palace was grand, to be sure. Carved marble and stone passageways were littered about the place, as if opulence was tossed about like discarded clothing.

It was a bit obscene, really. It was darker than she expected, given the height of the ceilings and such. And on they went, until she saw a few guardsmen standing alongside an enormous pair of black doors. 

Her transport bade her remain, and she stood there, as they both entered the place just beyond the doors.

Jane shook a bit, for it was a touch colder than she was expecting it to be.

After a few minutes thus, the grand black doors opened, and Jane went inside. Her footfalls were to be heard in the vast yawn of the room, reverberating back upon itself. 

She spotted a man sitting at the far end of the room, high upon a throne gilded in fine and luxurious metals. Jane approached him with some care, for she was wary. 

“You are the mortal they call Jane Foster?” he asked. 

Jane swallowed. “Yes.”

“And you are the lady who has captured Thor’s eye?” 

Jane shrugged. She wasn't all that sure about that. “I guess.” 

The man smirked. “Don’t you know?”

“I am, then. It’s an odd question to ask.” 

“It isn’t, when you’re me, mortal,” he slid from this throne. Jane didn't respond, as she honestly had none. So Loki sneered a touch, and he thought he must look impressive to this mortal standing there…his green cape falling behind him, his black armor solid and strong.

Jane thought that he looked regal, yes. But a bit overdone in his presence. Then again, he was a god. 

“How long did Asgard give you permission to remain here?” he turned away from her, hands behind his back, strolling a bit closer to her.

“Well, they said something like a few weeks.” 

Loki nodded, smiling. 

“How should I address you, Your Majesty?” 

“Just so, Jane Foster.”

Jane nodded. “Will I have the opportunity to speak with you? Ask questions I might have?” 

“I suppose, it is a meagre enough request.” 

Jane rolled her eyes covertly and plastered a smile on her face. He was one of those. 

“Well, whatever you see fit, Your Majesty,” she curtseyed, and turned to walk away. 

“Jane Foster?” 

She stopped and looked at him.

“I did not give you leave.” 

“No? I thought it pretty plain that you were finished here,” she smiled sweetly once more and left. 

And Loki thought she would need to pay for her obstinance.

Yet there was something about this mortal…though he couldn't quite say what… 

He would need to find out. 

* * *

Jane spent some time the next few days examining the dome of sky in Hel.

It was fascinating to her, for the place had an odd feel to it…

…the air was dense, it felt as though she was constantly in the embrace of a heated lover. 

…the cold was bitter, after the star set, it would turn such a feverish cold that Jane would often shiver under her overlay. 

…the heat was heavy and persistent, the height of day created beads of sweat with no exertion on her part at all. 

…the foliage was dense in many parts, though in others, it seemed like a desert.

Jane couldn't fathom what it all meant.

* * *

Loki hadn’t condescended to see her since her arrival, but after her fifth day there, he beckoned her to dine with him.

Jane was instructed by her chamber maid that she would need to dress in a manner befitting dinner with a King. 

So she wore a soft gown, pulled her hair up. And that would be the extent of her attentions. She had no desire to paint her face, nor wear trinkets. She was not here to impress the doleful and distant King.

She arrived in the great hall, expecting to see him waiting for her, sitting at the head of the table. He wasn’t. He wasn't there at all. 

This rendered her confused, as she took her seat at the far end of the massive table. What did he mean by it? What could he mean by having her meet him for dinner, then not show up? 

…and Jane ate her dinner alone, confused, and rather angry. 

As for the King, he was invisible, watching her the whole while, examining her movements. She was an odd creature, to be sure…but she captivated him…increasingly and annoyingly so.

So it was that Jane Foster spent the first week in almost complete solitude, and wasn't sorry for it. 

* * *

But on the eve of her second Sunday, the King made an appearance. “You are an interesting person, Jane Foster,” he was in a great library, deep in the bowels of the palace, reading a massive tome. He waved his hand and conjured a fire.

“Am I?” she went over to him. 

“Indeed,” and he licked his finger to turn a page. “But I fail to see your connection with Thor.” 

She sat opposite him. “Well, he’s nice. Occasionally funny. He’s awfully…” she cleared her throat. 

He raised his eyebrows. 

“…well. He’s…” 

“Brawny?” 

She smiled and shrugged. “Sure.” 

“I suppose it doesn’t surprise me that a mortal would be captivated by sinewy charm nor paltry lewd humor. Your minds are not refined in any significant manner,” and he turned his attention to his volume.

“I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but I am no vapid mortal. I am a scientist, and can hold my own with anyone.”

“You are very bold, I can see. It might be mistaken for foolishness.” 

Jane sat up straight in her chair. “I told you. I’m no fool.” 

“On Midgard,” he began, as he considered her briefly, then placed the heavy volume aside, “A game of wits and calculation is played. I believe,” and he waved his hand. “It is called chess,” and a chessboard, pieces, etc., all materialized in front of them. 

“You want to play chess?” 

“Only if I am the black pieces,” and he smiled crookedly. 

And they began. 

Three hours spent thus, and Jane had only bested Loki once out of four games. But, King Loki was impressed with the mortal. And he told her so. 

“Well done, Jane Foster,” he sat back and conjured them some wine. “For a mortal.” 

“Yeah. Not too shabby, considering you are a God and a King and you have endless hours to practice this stuff.” 

“I have done more with my time than merely practice such mortal drivel as chess,” he sneered.

“I’m sure.” 

“You doubt me?” 

Jane’s eyes went wide and and smiled. “Of course not, God of Lies…” she added with a smile. 

Loki stood. “Come, mortal Jane…let us enjoy Helheim's nightfall.” 

She nodded and stood…

…and they went into the garden surrounding the palace.

“It’s strange it’s called the Underworld.” 

“Why? It is at the base of Yggdrasil.” 

“But…” Jane protested. “It isn't dark or anything. It’s actually pretty lovely,” she ended in a hush. 

Loki considered her a moment, then turned his attention to the dome of stars. He began to draw the sky, and held Jane enraptured by his tale turning.

“And have you discovered all of this because of your time here, or from years of study?” 

“Both, I imagine.” 

Jane smiled. 

* * *

…and the following week Loki sought her out more and more. He felt drawn to her, she held his imagination captive…

Soon he realized that he wasn't just attempting to infiltrate Asgard via the mortal, but that she had ensnared him herself, as though…

As though… “Jane, you have never left Midgard other than to travel to Asgard, and now Hel, is that correct?” They were dining over breakfast, and Jane was pleasantly comfortable with the King now. 

“Yeah. I think so…” it was an odd question.

He nodded. “Never have you been to Alfheim, nor Jutenheim…?” 

“Ah, no. I think I’d remember that.” 

Loki looked out of the window…the great glass obstruction to the Realm’s vicious heat filling the atmosphere after night’s stark chill. 

“Why?” she asked. 

“No reason,” he replied. But his dreams were violent as her departure approached. He felt her absence even though her rooms were down the passageway. 

* * *

…and one night…as the third week of her stay began to die…

He visited her. And not concealed by magic as had been his habit. 

“Jane,” he said into the darkness. He saw her eyes flicker. 

“Jane,” once more. 

And she sat up. “Loki?” 

He went to her, knelt beside the edge of the bed. “Tell me that we have met somewhere…sometime…tell me to leave immediately and never return to your sight…tell me that you despise me as everyone does…tell me that I am a fool, that there is no connection here…” 

“What are you saying?” she was confused, for not only had he woke her in the middle of the night, but he was saying incomprehensible things.

“I know you,” he finally said.

 _Frigga woke with a start. She ran to the tapestry room…it couldn't be…she stitched the material she had been tending to…and there…there it was…the intwined black mark…_ “Fetch the King,” she said to no one. 

“You know me?” her brow furrowed. 

“Aye,” and he stood. “Though it is the most curious thing I’ve ever experienced. Impossible,” and he turned away, toward her window…it gave a view of a bubbling black stream beneath. “…and yet it exists, just so.”

“But…how?” 

“I know not. I only know that you cannot leave.”

Now she got out of bed. “What.” 

“Jane,” he turned once more. “I must discover what this means. I know you, somehow…”

“But…” 

“…and though I must needs hate you, I cannot.” 

“Well, that’s something, I guess,” she was irritated. He was in her room, in the middle of the night… and he wasn’t making sense. 

 Jane liked sensible things.

“So…though you are expected back in Asgard in two day’s time, I must ask you to remain here.” 

“For how long?”

“I do not know.”

Jane breathed deeply to steady herself. “Alright, look. You can’t just ask me to remain here indefinitely.”

“But I am a King,” he smirked. “I actually can do just that.” 

“You wouldn’t,” she breathed. 

“No?” and he turned and left the room, locking her in. 

And Jane screamed…the sounds of her ire aching the walls until they too, screamed. 

* * *

In Asgard, Thor was readying for his departure to the Underworld to retrieve Jane.

“Thor…” came his mother’s voice. 

He turned, smiling. 

“She isn't ready.”

* * *

Jane was sitting at the window in her room; she was looking outside, for it had been five days since she had spoken to Loki.

Not that he hadn’t attempted, but he was a prideful King, and he wouldn't be made a fool of. Not by a mortal. He sat every night at the massive table, thinking about his predicament and what to do about it.

He needed to speak with Jane again, but she was angry and wouldn't be persuaded.

* * *

And Jane thought that surely someone from Asgard would come looking for her…surely someone was concerned…and wasn't Thor supposed to come and retrieve her? Jane seethed in her confinement. She hated Loki. She hated Thor. This was unbearable and ludicrous.

She thought about what she could do to aid in her release, or escape, or whatever.

…and she concocted a plan. 

…and a smile slipped over her features.

* * *

Loki was standing outside of her chamber’s door. He was waiting for the right moment to go inside and speak with Jane… Why was he unsure? This wasn't like him.

He opened the door, and saw Jane Foster sitting at the desk at the far end of her room. 

“Hello Loki,” she said without looking. 

“Jane,” he replied, and closed the door behind him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m writing a letter.” 

“To whom?” 

“Thor.” 

“Why would you do that?” and he approached her. 

“To tell him that I despise him. Will you see that he gets it?” 

Loki was now facing her fully. What did she mean by this? “Jane, you’ll need to explain yourself.” 

“Well, I guess I just came to terms with the fact that I’m stuck here, so I’m going to make the best of it, and tell Thor to fuck off.”

His eyebrows went up at the way in which she expressed herself. “Is that so? Thor is annoying, to be sure…but what has he done to incite such wrath?”

Jane stood now. “He’s abandoned me.” 

Loki looked away. He nodded. 

It was true, he hadn’t expected the silence when he sent the Aesir away who had come to retrieve Jane Foster.

He was rather shocked at it, actually. 

Loki was seldom shocked. He didn't like it.

“I understand how ill used you must feel after such blatant treatment…but surely you do not hate him?” he was counting on Thor coming for her, demanding that they both be sent to Asgard…he would worry about everything once he was given leave to enter the Realm; the throne of Asgard, and Jane Foster herself.

He imagined that the Queen with her sight would be able to answer some of his pressing questions. 

“Oh, but I do,” and she handed him the note.

“See that he gets it, won’t you?” she turned and sat back at her desk. 

Loki bit his lip. 

The King of the Underworld was many, many things. 

Mute wasn't one of them. 

But he turned and left her there.

And never sent the letter. 

* * *

One month had passed, and Jane was slowly emerging from her quarters, mostly out of boredom, but also because she remained curious about the Realm.

“What do you do here all day?” she asked at dinner one night.

“Nothing of consequence,” he responded. It wasn't like her, as of late, to ask questions. He was taken aback, and reacted accordingly.

“It must be boring.” 

_Aye. That is why I aim for Asgard_. “It has its merits.” 

“Such as?” she sipped her wine. 

“Well, when you’ve tasted Asgard’s honey, one must have a generous eye. I’d say that the though the Draugr are most unpleasant, the place can be lovely at the star rise.”

Jane smiled. “Tell me more.” 

Loki sat back…he considered her for a moment. “When the day gives its birth, and all is quiet, there is no song of the dead, for they have fallen into slumber…there is a bird…it never sings until day break, and when it does, it is the loveliest of sounds. It is almost…” he paused, and looked away. “Almost as though it was announcing our reprieve from night’s wail.”

“But I’ve never…” she shook her head.

“Jane…this Realm isn't disgusting to you because you do not belong here. If you saw what I see….” he swallowed. “You would surely change your opinion.” 

“But…the Aesir…they all say it isn't so bad…”

“They do not see it, either.”

“See what?” 

He stood. “Vicious wolves who pace the wood…fire pools and endless blackness…it rains blood…” 

“When?” she whispered. 

“Every night.”

She suddenly felt quite unsure of herself. What was he talking about? “I’ve never seen any of that? How can I see it?”

“You cannot. Unless you belong here.” 

“You mean…?” 

“Unless you are the damned,” he said. “Like me,” he added in a whisper. 

Jane studied him for a moment. 

But he walked away.

* * *

Thor was pacing, waiting to see the Queen. At long last she emerged from her tapestry rooms…

“Mother. It has been nearly two months since I was to have collected Jane. Why are you not allowing me to do this?” 

Frigga sighed heavily. “Thor, I’m afraid that I have seen things…things about Jane that you do not know. No one knows…not even her.” 

“What sorts of things?” his brow furrowed. 

“Life is odd, son.” 

Thor rolled his eyes.

“I saw that,” she said. “As I was saying, life is odd, time is even more strange.” 

“Time?” 

“Aye. A mortal’s life is so very short when one compares it to our own. Which is why, I think, that at the beginning, they offered the mortals many lives.”

“At the beginning? Of time?” 

“In a manner of speaking. But the beginning, son, is not a time. It is a place.” 

“You aren’t making sense, mother.” 

She nodded. “Sit,” and they did. 

Frigga folded her hands on her lap. “You will know, I’m sure, of the ribbons ladies sometimes wear in their hair?”

“Yes.” 

“And sometimes, they are very long. That is the way time is. It unfurls, it curls, it is sometimes cut…but its origin is a place, not a time. Even if we were to go back as far as the weaving of the material to create it. It was existing in a place…” 

“But in a time as well,” he interrupted. 

“If it makes it easier, son. At any rate, Jane has lived several lives during your own. She has met you once, and Loki…she has met as well.” 

Thor paled. “What?”

“That’s right…and I think…they have matters to reconcile.” And she rose.

While Thor seethed.

* * *

Jane was tired of being angry…though she still was aiming to get out of Hel, it wasn't the dire situation she had once believed. In fact, she and Loki had made amends and were beginning to get along alright. 

What that meant…she wasn't sure. But she no longer cringed when he smiled at her. No longer did she yearn to get away from him. 

He smiled at her.

She smiled back. 

And the place which was once a prison for both suddenly became a source of comfort for them in equal measure. 

“I’m not afraid,” she said to him one evening.

“Of?”

“Anything.”

And neither was he.

* * *

The night was pale, it is said, if night could be such a thing. Pale, stark…barely there. Jane was standing alone on a terrace as the day breathed its last. 

Night crept along, and she watched the King of the Underworld in the garden, moving his arms, as if directing a symphony… She couldn't tell what it was that he was doing…but it seemed to be important…so she didn't call out to him. She just watched. 

There was inexplicable grace in his movement. There was purpose and meaning…as in everything that he did. …and suddenly, she felt a tug of kind. She knew this man, this King…this God. She knew him, beyond what chess could reveal. She knew him as if his image was burned into her very soul…and perhaps it was, for he was the keeper of souls… 

He turned, and saw her watching him.

And she was trembling. 

Loki didn't think about what he was doing, which is noteworthy, because he always thought about what he was doing, even if it was foolish of him to do so.

He went to her. 

And he took her in his arms…“Jane…tell me that you care for me.”

“I do.” 

“Tell me that you know me.”

“I know you, Loki.” 

And with these words, he smiled, and he pulled her close…

_And he claimed her mouth…desperate and deep…he pressed into her…Jane moaned into his mouth, and he sunk the kiss deeper still, ferocious and fierce, his tongue joined with hers…consuming her very soul. His hands traced over her breasts…then dropped and took her ass and he squeezed…his knee bent and plowed in between her legs, grinding against her._

Loki stopped. He pulled away. “You,” he whispered.

“What?” she muttered, her lids heavy with desirous anticipation. 

“I’ve seen you…on Midgard…” 

“I don’t…” 

He grasped the railing for purchase…”We need to get inside…the night will be in full bloom soon, and I think that we need to speak.”

Jane followed him into the soft glow of an antechamber of the palace. 

She never saw what Loki saw in the night, but the chill was ferocious when night fell, and she never minded coming in. “What’s going on?” 

“Sit.” 

She did.

“Jane Foster…” he rubbed his face, as every memory of the two came flooding into his mind…”I believe that you and I have met several times.” 

“No. I would have remembered.” 

He sat across from her. “I first beheld you around Midgard’s 1190th year…AD?” he wasn't certain of the terminology. Jane’s mouth hung agape. He looked away. “There were great conflicts then, and the Aesir would sometimes travel to the Realm…you had spoken with Thor, and being the curious younger brother, sought the maiden he spoke with. I never held an interview with you…you never knew that I was there,” he paused. Some six hundred years later, I was on Midgard for some diplomatic reasons, and I saw you leaving a party. It had been quite some time since I had first seen you, and I honestly thought it nothing more than coincidence that I saw you then…that you looked so much like that young maiden…and I…kissed you…” he swallowed, still not looking at her. “About a century passed, and I was rather preoccupied with this mortal, you…and I went back to the place I had seen you…I met, who I had thought must be your granddaughter, in a bookshop. I believe that was you as well.” 

“You’re telling me that I’ve been reincarnated? How do you know this?” 

“Because when I went to kiss you just now, that garden scene came back to me…as though I was living it once more.” 

“But maybe…you know…maybe it was just a flashback? Maybe I just look like her.” 

Loki shrugged. “But this would explain everything.” 

“It does?” 

“Yes.”

Jane was shaking her head.“No it doesn’t! It doesn’t explain a fucking thing! What are you talking about! You met me seven hundred years ago! That’s just not possible!” she was angry.

“Jane…” 

“No! I want to speak with Thor. I want to speak to Odin. I need some answers,” she stood. “I need to get outta here. Take me to Asgard.”

“No.” 

“No? Fuck you. Who do you think you are? What is really going on here, and don’t make up some story.”  


Now Loki stood. He was quite calm, given the scene. “In truth, I had meant to use you to get to Asgard myself. I thought that if I kept you here a bit longer, Thor would come for you, and I could bargain for my release…or at least get you to like me well enough so that you might invite me back. I wished to plea my case with the All-Father.” 

She was shaking her head. 

“But that all changed, Jane. I sensed that there was something about you almost from our earliest talks. As though…I knew you. And then I couldn't rest until I understood it,” and now he was walking toward her. 

“Stay back,” she was holding her hand up, tears running down her face.

“We have a connection, Jane.” 

“No we don’t,” she cried. 

“You feel it…you said so a moment ago in the garden.” 

She wailed her desperation. “No! What you are saying isn't possible! It isn’t…and I won’t listen to this…” and she ran to her rooms.

And Loki sunk into a chair.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he told the truth. 

And he wasn't believed. He should have lied. Perhaps then she would have believed him.

* * *

“You can go now, Thor,” his mother told him the next morning. 

“Go?” he asked. 

“To see Jane. You should leave soon,” and Frigga rose and left the table. 

Thor smiled and readied himself for departure.

* * *

“Your Majesty?” called out a guardsman.

Loki raised his eyebrows…he sat on the gilded throne in a slump. 

“Prince Thor is come.” 

He nodded. “Bring him in.” 

He heard Thor’s massive feet echoing the chamber walls. 

“Where is she Loki?” he said irately. 

“In her rooms,” he replied. 

“And is she prepared to leave?”

At this he looked, and appeared to be tired. “I wouldn't know.”

Thor was too irritated to bother… 

Loki sat there as he watched Thor, Heir to Asgard, take Jane away. He saw her give a sidelong glance in his direction. 

He saw all of this… 

…and he thought… _and now I must wait once more for her to die and become reborn…_

* * *

Jane wasn't happy when she returned to the Highest Realm. 

She stayed away from most people, but never said that she wanted to go back to Midgard. That, she believed, was curious. Jane didn't know what she was doing, not really. She didn't understand what the future held, she no longer understood her past…it seemed much, much more complicated than growing up in Colorado now.

And before long, a visitor came calling to her quarters. It was the Queen. This was unexpected, as Thor had come and gone many times over the past week since her return. 

“Jane, you must be confused.”  

“That doesn’t even cover half of it.”

“And Loki,” she continued. “Is in a state himself. Helheim has not seen its star since you left it.”

“Can he do that? Stop day and night?” 

Frigga laughed. “Well, apart from being Helheim's Lord, he is a great sorcerer.” 

“Yeah, but…” 

“Jane. Please tell me what transpired between the two of you during your long stay.” 

“I feel pretty used, Frigga. I’m feeling like a pawn in a great chess game. I feel as though no one cares about me at all here, and that I have lost my free will.”

“Free will is a dubious concept,” the Queen replied. 

“I really don’t want to get into some philosophical debate. I just want to know what’s happening.”

She nodded. “Well, it seems you are destined to be…involved…with my son Loki. That perhaps until you get it right, you will continue to have these interludes with him.” 

“Why didn't he remember....until just now?” 

“When he was cast away, he had lost much of who is was. Many memories were part of that. Being King of the Underworld is a mixed bag, if you will. That is one of the reasons why he is so desperate to leave.” 

Jane sighed. “I want to go home.” 

“Of course.” 

“You aren’t gonna try and keep me here?” 

“Not at all,” she stood. “You may prepare to leave in the morning,” and she left.

Jane was sitting in a chair by the window. 

She looked out into Asgard’s night… What did it all mean? How was this suddenly her life? How was this reconcilable? Jane didn't know. 

She didn't know anything anymore… 

Except that she missed Loki.

* * *

The BiFrost was ready, Heimdall at his charge. Thor hadn’t come to see her off, he was too angry just yet. He didn't understand why she was bitter, he hadn’t made her stay there.

Jane sighed as she looked down into the porthole. 

(There are moments in one’s life that forever change the course of it, and Jane felt it acutely…as though she was being choked…something being pulled taut around her neck…) 

“Heimdall?” 

“Yes Lady Jane?” 

“I wanna go to Helheim.” 

“As you like.” 

…and Jane fell…

* * *

Loki had paid for her absence. 

He felt as though a limb had been severed. He had barely left his throne room since Jane was escorted back to Asgard. Here he would remain. He was Lord here, and he would relish it. Make the most of what his existence had become. He desired nothing…he felt nothing…apathy dripped from his lips like honey.

“Loki?” 

Through a fog he heard that voice…it must be a hallucination.

“Loki…” and now the mirage stepped toward him. He was losing his mind along with everything else. 

She approached him…placed her hand on his…the first time she had ever touched him. Well, here, in this life of hers. 

“Loki…are you alright?” 

“Who are you?” 

“I have no idea.” 

“Neither do I…” 

Jane smiled. She pulled him off of the throne. “Make it day,” she said.

Loki never left her eyes. He waved his hand…and the star’s soft beam of light pierced the darkness of the hall. Jane’s hand went up his arm… 

And Loki swallowed. 

Something…a tug or a pull…perhaps both…brought them closer…and their lips touched… 

It was a fervid embrace…their brows taut with feeling, and they fell to the floor in a heap. Off went their clothing…and the thing that had been playing upon their lives mutual for many centuries now occurred…it was a relief in every sense of the word. And Jane laughed her tears, and Loki responded…and they consummated themselves in deliberate passion, if such a thing exists. 

After the tangle became undone, Jane stood from the floor, it was cold and uncomfortable. 

She looked out into the day… 

But it was red. “Loki? Why is everything so red?” 

“It is always thus, Jane.” 

She examined it once more. It seemed…different. 

That day was spent mostly in the King’s quarters, engaged in carnal activities and declarations of adoration…

At dusk, Loki went outside… 

…and Jane watched him from his chamber.

He made night fall…and she heard the sounds of wolves…she saw the black brook bubble…she saw the blood begin to fall…she heard the cries of the dead…

And he returned to her after some time. 

“I saw it, Loki…heard everything that you had described to me.” 

“That is because, Jane Foster…you belong here now,” he kissed her deeply.

And sometimes, that ribbon is a charred black one, and just as beautiful as any.


End file.
